


Right Now

by DismantledSun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kidnapping, M/M, i.e. Louis is sad and alcohol helps, imagine Stockholm Syndrome went darkside and Right Now's lyrics were the inspiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DismantledSun/pseuds/DismantledSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shuffled and pushed papers he didn’t want to read from his lap. He had nearly knocked them all off when he saw one marked for that day placed at the bottom of the small stack. The paper was actually printed earlier that day.<br/>“Is Louis Tomlinson Missing?”</p>
<p>(Or: AU where One Direction split up, Louis was taken hostage by a sadistic gang, and his longing for Harry gets him into quite a bit of trouble)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Now

**Author's Note:**

> The title came from Right Now and the story was inspired very loosely by that song. Enjoy :)

The flutter of paper pulled Louis from sleep, his head throbbing and mouth dry. He tried to open his eyes but a blinding natural light that filtered in from somewhere above made him shut his eyes tightly. Louis tried to shift around but found his limbs sore and held stiff in their position. It sounded like there was a screaming voice echoing in his ears, raw and strained as it struggled and cried out, but on second thought, perhaps it was just him.

Louis tried opening his eyes again, forcing them not to shut so he could see where he was and remember what had happened. The sunlight from overhead was casting him in a spotlight, illuminating the small spot under which he sat, while everything surrounding him was dark and hard to see. Even through squinting against the harsh light, Louis couldn’t make out his surroundings. He was left as clueless as ever.

The one thing that Louis was able to see, however, was a small stack of crudely torn newspaper articles placed haphazardly on Louis’s lap, their corners curling up at a breeze Louis didn’t know the source of. Looking down and getting as close to the pages as possible, Louis scanned to ascertain what they were about. Narrowing his eyes against the glare of light on white paper, Louis began to read.

“ **Irish-British Boyband One Direction: Their Final Farewells**

It seems that members of the world phenomenon One Direction are splitting to move in different directions. At young ages, the boys had exceptional success, but after six albums, world tours, and a movie, it seems the boys have given up their time in the limelight. Zayn Malik has talked with our reporters to say that he is finally planning the wedding he’s postponed for the band’s success, but that he made “lifelong friends” with the lads. Liam Payne and Niall Horan haven’t gone in quite the polar opposite direction that Zayn has what with his breaking away from the group, with sources saying the two are still hanging out on a regular basis. Youngest member, Harry Styles, hasn’t been as active as the others, but regularly responds to fans on Twitter and Instagram. Louis Tomlinson, however, has been MIA for a few days now. Has the Tommo gone and eloped, or is he spending some much needed time with his mum and family? Leave comments on where you think Louis is on our websi–”

The corner of the clipping was torn off, stopping the word before it was finished. Confusion filled Louis’s aching head as he looked at the worn ink that indicated the date. It was marked for a few days prior. Louis’s head began to hurt more as questions filled it, but the burning desire to understand what was happening pressed Louis to keep reading the other articles.

“ **One Direction is No More**

We thought that One Direction would keep going in that same direction, but it seems that they’ve finally reached the end of the road. It seems like they didn’t forget where they belonged (see what we did there?) and have moved onto a more normal part of their lives. They explained their reasons in an interview released today…”

No, this was from weeks ago, Louis thought, frowning at the paper he was reading. He needed something else. He needed answers. Instead of reading systematically through all of the papers, moving in the order they were placed, Louis began looking for the articles’ publishing dates, whether partially seen or not, so he could find something that was more recent. An article that was marked for a few days before caught his eye.

“ **Is Harry Styles Spending Time Enjoying The Morning, Or Is He Just Mourning?**

‘What Makes You Beautiful’ hit maker and ex-boyband member has been frequently active on his social media accounts posting artsy pictures of things that strike his fancy, while adding vague comments full of quotes or what people perceive to be double meanings. One recent Tweet that fans have latched onto was his black and white photograph of an old wooden swing bench with the caption ‘Missing you xx.’ A number of people have been relating it to the recent break up of his band One Direction, while others have been saying it’s because Harry hasn’t seen Louis. Hopefully Haz–”

Harry hasn’t seen me? But he could have just called, Louis thought as he shuffled and pushed papers he didn’t want to read from his lap. He had nearly knocked them all off when he saw one marked for that day placed at the bottom of the small stack. The paper was actually printed earlier that day.

“ **Is Louis Tomlinson Missing?** ”

 

~~~

 

Louis didn’t know what he was expecting, to be mobbed by numerous fans sobbing for him to bring One Direction back together, or to be left alone. If Louis was being honest with himself, he was definitely leaning towards the first option. And maybe if he was completely honest, he would admit that he was actually hoping for it too.

Life with One Direction became normal, if a bit hectic, to Louis. It was full of sold out stadium shows, plane rides at insane hours of the morning, hitting new countries every week… But it was also full of family. Louis didn’t think he would go anywhere without the boys – they were the world to him – but apparently that world fell apart, taking the four with it. So yes, if Louis was being honest, he did want fans to swarm in the streets and beg him to bring the band together, to promise it wasn’t over. At least that way he would know he wasn’t alone in his beliefs. At least that way he wouldn’t be alone in the street.

That’s not to say that Louis was alone; he saw Harry more days than he didn’t – Louis practically lived with the lad, but he wouldn’t admit to that publically – he was invited to Zayn’s wedding, and he knew he could crash at Liam or Niall’s places whenever he felt the urge. But Louis wasn’t used to such a drastic change in his lifestyle. He wasn’t used to the domestic life of sleeping in his bedroom, going to get groceries, frequently visiting his mum and siblings. Everything felt so surreal to Louis, and it always made him wonder and question; it always kept him on edge.

Thoughts revolving, per the usual, around the end of One Direction and how everything felt strange, Louis rounded the corner of an inadequately lit street and entered a small bar that was on his right. It was nothing special, no extravagant themes or expensive drinks, but it was well enough known for its friendly service and good pints. It wasn’t the place Louis from a few weeks back would ever visit if he was trying to maintain his star persona, but the hidden quaintness of it suited this Louis quite well.

He sensed a shift in the atmosphere of the pub as people noticed his entrance, and immediately cursed his image. The fame he had acquired from years on tour began to haunt him, even after a short period of time, hanging around like a dead skin yet to be shed; Louis either wanted it one hundred percent there or completely gone. He didn’t want people to know him well-enough to be wary of him – Louis didn’t want half way. Louis wanted to be known as Louis Tomlinson, member of One Direction, or just another bloke coming in to wash away his mind with a few glasses of alcohol.

Unfortunately, Louis had to settle for the uncomfortable half way, walking further into the warm bar and pointedly ignoring the attention he had gained. The small number of people scattered throughout resumed their hushed conversations and tried to look away, but that didn’t keep Louis from feeling their stares burn into his back.

“Anything I can get for ya, lad?” the bartender asked in a rough Scottish voice. Louis chuckled slightly at how well his accent blended into the bar’s atmosphere.

“What’s the best thing you have?” Louis was surprised at the maturity to his speech, noting how it was lacking the childlike sass and controlling demeanor it had in years past. Perhaps he shouldn’t have spent a day in his pajamas watching old video diaries with Harry under a pile of blankets a while back…

“This here,” the bartender replied, taking out a bottle from underneath the counter and swirling around its amber contents. “Sure ya got enough to pay, mate?”

“Trust me, money isn’t an issue here,” Louis affirmed, choosing to ignore how dejected he sounded. The bartender just nodded and took out a clean glass to pour Louis’s drink.

“Eh,” he said after a moment, turning back around to Louis with a pointing finger. “You look like the kid from that band… Lou– Lewis?”

“Louis,” Louis supplied, reaching out a hand. “Tomlinson.”

“Ah, you’re that one,” the bartender replied, taking Louis’s small hand in his own large and calloused one. “Name’s Peter.”

“Great to meet you, Peter. Would you mind pouring me another glass?” Louis asked, his voice polite even though he just wanted to wash away memories and not maintain small talk. If Louis was thinking straight he might have realized that alcohol does a nasty job of making memories come back too.

“Sure thing. I’ve seen you and the boys on the news a lot lately. It’s all people can talk about, the band. It’s a right shame it all had to end, but I suppose you need to move on with your lives, eh?”

“That just about sums it up,” Louis answered sadly. “Thing is, I’m not sure I’m ready to move on.”

“Why’s that?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely interested. Louis began playing with the too long sleeves of his jumper – well, Harry’s jumper, but no one was asking.

“I see the lads all the time, but it’s not the same anymore. It’s hard to change from living with them to seeing them a couple times a week. I mean, sure, they’re royal pains in my arse, but I love them. I miss them.”

“Like that curly haired friend of yours? You two seem inseparable.”

“Harry?” Louis asked with a dull laugh. “He’s off doing Harry things. It’s all been a bit strange settling into this lifestyle, you know? It’ll take some getting used to on our own before we get back into normal things,” Louis answered, the alcohol acting as an excellent truth serum. He knocked back the rest of the glass and set it gently on the counter.

A truth serum and a memory retriever: that was what alcohol was good at. Unfortunately, all of the memories tended to be tied to Harry. His wide eyed look of innocence that passed between Louis and their bosses when One Direction had officially ended – a look of disbelief and hurt, as if he wasn’t ready to accept a life of moving on. The lingering gaze of tear filled eyes when Louis and Harry left in separate cars from their final meeting with management. Harry’s giddy excitement at seeing Louis a few days later and rushing to hug him, even when Louis had barely opened the door to invite him inside. Harry. Harry. Harry.

What memory the alcohol unfortunately decided to retrieve was the slow, sleepy smile stretching across Harry’s face when he woke up snuggled against Louis the morning after their extremely late movie marathon including Love Actually and Grease. It was Harry’s smile where the left side of his mouth lifted up slightly higher than the right; it was as if Harry was genuinely happy with the world. To Louis, Harry was radiating sunshine and all things good in the world. It was bloody beautiful. As an afterthought, though, Louis realized that Harry really only had that smile around him.

Lord, he wished Harry was there with him.

Actually, Louis decided, he wished he had another drink. Fixing his fuzzy gaze on the bartender, Louis tried to ask for a refill, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton and his mind was swimming with thoughts of Harry.

“Mate, you alright?” Peter asked, noticing Louis looking at him with a slightly glazed over look to his face.

“I’ve just been thinking. Can you top me off?” Louis asked with a thick voice. He shook his empty glass side to side a bit, but Louis couldn’t tell if it was moving on his own or if he was moving it.

“You joking? You’ve asked me to top ‘er off three times now while you were staring at the wall. Been muttering about alcohol and that curly lad. You need to take it easy.”

“No,” Louis muttered. “I wish Harry was here. I don’t know– I don’t know– Everything is so new. I don’t know how. I need Harry.”

“Mate, what you need is to sleep this off.”

“I need Harry.”

“Alright,” Peter said, moving to the other side of the counter to help Louis off the stool. “Up you get. Go home. You can call your friend when you wake up.”

“’m gonna call Harry tomorrow,” Louis agreed, slowly shuffling out of the bar. His mind was alert, telling him that he was had gotten too drunk too fast, but his body was lethargic; Louis felt like alcohol was pumping through his veins like morphine, soothing the pain but leaving him delirious. Louis just needed to make it home.

Once the door had fallen shut, Louis felt cut off from the world of warmth and peaceful ambiance locked tight in the small pub. The street contrasted greatly with it, funneling a chilly, damp wind that blew Louis’s long hair across his eyes. With each step echoes reverberated around him, filling the silence with an eerie, hollow sound. Louis needed to get home, but he was too tired, drunk, and sad to do much more than stumble slowly through the darkness.

“Hey, mate?” a voice called from somewhere near Louis. He stopped in his steps, slowly spinning towards the sound but nearly falling over in the process. The drunk part of Louis’s mind was telling him to head towards the voice, while the rational part was insisting that he flee. The constant vacillation between staying or going kept Louis rooted to the spot.

“Mate?” a voice called again, but Louis couldn’t tell if it was the same voice or a different one. He turned towards it anyway, though. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The voices multiplied, sounding loud and harsh in Louis’s alcohol addled head, and he wanted desperately to escape them; Louis wanted to run away, but all he managed to do was trip over his own feet and land palms first on the pavement beneath him. Bright lights dancing against the dark in his field of vision distracted Louis, pulling his attention solely to hearing the voices and squinting at the lights. It sounded like the night was calling to him, a personified night reaching out to make him rethink his decisions. Louis really needed to rethink his habit of drinking away his problems – it seemed to just cause more.

“Do you need help? Let me help you up,” the voices started saying, singing sweet words of refuge much like that of a siren, although the harshness underneath implied he was being lured to his death. Louis began to writher away from the sounds but they encircled him. He wasn’t in the right mind to do any more about it.

A pair of large hands gripped his upper arms tightly from behind, the fingers digging painfully into his skin as he was dragged from the ground and to his feet. Louis cried out, his bleary mind thinking about the probably bruises on his arms while other voices began laughing at him.

“’m just going home,” Louis slurred out through a pained voice. “’m going home.”

Louis felt something hard and bony come into contact with his back, the movement swift and harsh causing him to cry out in pain once more. His knees buckled under him and he fell to the damp ground once more. Louis wanted to escape, but his body was slowed by alcohol and his mind slowed by Harry.

“Get up, tosser,” the voices said, singing around his delirious body as the lights continued to dance. Louis wanted to press his hands to his ears and shut his eyes tightly. He wanted it to go away.

“I’m just trying to go home,” Louis whimpered as a foot made contact with his side.

The lights dancing in front of his field of vision began to fade into black, and the singing voices grew distanced and far off, like a voice calling from too far away. Louis could tell that they were still there, though, but he felt too numb to really notice much more than that. Actually, Louis was in pain, he knew he was in pain – his body ached – but his mind was breaking and leaving him numb; Louis had no idea what was happening or how to save himself. All Louis wanted to do was to find Harry and curl up against his warm chest and cry about the night. He wanted to go home.

But that’s when Louis finally realized that he wouldn’t be going home.

 

~~~

 

Louis was surprised at how he wasn’t panicking, even though the sun had clearly worked its way down past the noon position and the spotlight from the hole in the roof made its way across the concrete floor. After the sun had stopped shining on him, it started lighting up the room which told him it was significantly larger than he had anticipated. Dust particles floated around in the sun’s beam, the mysterious breeze stirring them up off the floor and into a billowing cloud in the distance. The more he thought about it, the more Louis decided he was in an abandoned warehouse or factory of sorts. At least, he hoped it was abandoned. _Who would want a decent sized hole in their roof?_

Louis paused to stare at the far wall he could finally see, taking a moment to comprehend his thought. He finally decided that he had been taken hostage in an abandoned who-knows-what, and his main concern is that people don’t use a dilapidated building? There was clearly something off about that.

But then again, Louis interjected, ignoring the fact that he was having a conversation with himself, _my life’s been flipped around, so is this really anything unexpected? It’s just one more rung up the crazy ladder_. Louis went from being a world renowned pop star used to a life of craziness and luxury to living on his own and going to a pub to drink away his loneliness. It only took a few weeks before he was stolen from the street and tied to a – very uncomfortable, in Louis’s opinion – chair. He should be panicking, but Louis honestly thought that if a unicorn was humping a zebra he would be more focused on how the unizebracorn would safely come out and how it would be a beautiful hybrid animal, rather than the fact that something with zero probability of ever occurring was happing in front of Louis.

“Hungover, tired, kidnapped Louis is a bad Louis,” Louis muttered aloud to himself, very surprised at his odd thoughts. His voice was scratchy. He needed water. And food too, all things considered.

“Are you a bad Louis?” a taunting voice called, carrying and echoing through the empty space. The sound of hard-heeled shoes were slowly getting louder and approaching Louis. Setting his jaw and clenching his teeth, Louis said nothing while he waited for the man to reach him.

“I said,” the man sneered, close behind Louis’s ear before he turned and was inches from Louis’s face, “Are you bad?”

Louis refused to answer, choosing instead to take in the man’s appearance. He had a strong jaw line, dotted with faded bruises from one too many punches, dark stubble covering his chin, and grey eyes – all very stereotypical friendly-neighborhood-serial-killer, which was nothing less than what Louis expected.

“You keep staring at me like that and you might get it up the arse,” the man said bitterly, and immediately Louis wanted to hit him. The threat was bad enough, but the likes of him should never roam the streets.

“I prefer it up the arse, mate. If anything, you’ll have to worry about the police coming when I do – It’d be a lie to say I’m not loud,” Louis quipped before he could catch himself. Deciding to roll with it he continued, letting out an obscene, “Oooohh, ruggedly handsome murderer, harder.”

“You whore,” the man spat before backing away from Louis’s face.

Louis blew his limp fringe out of his eyes but reverted back to his goal of silence. He fixed his face to hide as much emotion as possible before he began to stare down the man. Well, his eyes were more fixed on the abundance of layers his (hopefully not) future murderer was wearing, and he was suddenly noticing how chilly it got in a sketchy, abandoned building as the sun set.

“Why so silent now, Louis? Did I do something to upset you? Why so _shy_?” the man asked, drawing out the last word like it was the hint to a secret yet to be discovered.

The Coy. A shiver ran straight down Louis’s spine that wasn’t from the chill of the air as he realized perhaps it was a secret; Louis would have been better off knowing whatever situation he was caused by some psychopath, not a member of The Coy. Hell, even a sociopath would be better – anything but The Coy.

Bad men were predictable, clever, but predictable. They get so caught up in proving they were superior that they make mistakes. Bad men would take the time to prove themselves right, even if it means risking everything. Underground organizations were different, comprised of evil men who, when put together, were clever and cunning masses that were so meticulous in their plans things hardly ever went awry. So yes, perhaps The Coy were a secret, something buried and hidden because surfacing their terror would hardly do any good.

Louis mentally scoffed at the name, a romanticized way to look at the repression the group was ultimately doing. The Coy were forcing their bigoted conformity on unwilling subjects to better society, and said they were just being “modest” about life. Louis thought it sounded like something out of a dystopia novel schools forced their students to read – ulterior motives so covered in bullshit that people started to believe them and means of persuasion so powerful people couldn’t help but succumb. Another shiver trailed down Louis’s body at the thought of persuasion.

“Aw, poor baby’s scared,” the man mocked, his face pulled into an exaggerated pout as if teasing a child. “Who’s going to save you? Who’s going to be your hero?”

Immediately clenching his jaw, Louis smoothed out his facial features to hide emotion from it. Louis would fight down every desire to scream out for Harry to take him home until his voice was raw; he would fight the burning want for Harry to kiss him gently on the head and mutter about how everything would be okay. Louis would fight every feeling if he could keep Harry safe.

“Oh, so you’re trying to play hero, then?” the man asked, as if he read Louis’s mind. “We will break you beyond repair and we will win.”

“You’re wrong. You’re just trying to play out your own sadistic ‘1984’, but I know the ending and I won’t let it happen,” Louis spat back.

“Look, pretty boy,” the man said, roughly placing his palms on Louis’s cheeks, pressing until it hurt. “I like your face. Don’t make me break it.”

“Look, creepy,” Louis sneered back. “I don’t give a shit what you do. If you have to hurt someone, I’d rather it be me and not my ‘hero’.”

Face flushing red with anger, the man forcefully kicked over Louis’s chair so he fell back, head hitting against the dusty concrete of the ground. Upon impact, Louis saw stars sparkling in his vision. As he lay groaning on the ground, Louis vaguely remembered that he was situated under the opened roof, so perhaps those were the stars he was seeing instead. The notion only succeeded in confusing him further, though.

The only think Louis knew was that he was in pain, and that he wanted Harry. Badly. It took all of his will power to fight the desire to cry out for Harry, and Louis wasn’t sure how long he could fight it – that night or nights to come.

“One day,” the man said, crouching to get closer to Louis, “I will get a name from you. I can already see the cracks spreading throughout you as you fight it. In the end, you won’t be the hero. You’ll be the villain, and that’ll let your poor hero down. You won’t be the one hurt, you’ll be the one hurting. You’ll be just as bad as me. The cracks are already there, Louis. I’m just looking to find the right fault to hit before everything comes shattering down.”

Then the man pulled Louis’s chair up to about a nearly 45 degree angle before pushing him back to the ground where Louis’s head came into contact with the newspaper littered ground. After a brief sensation of falling, Louis’s vision fell as black as the night.

 

~~~

 

“Boo?” a soft voice called, hesitant and caring. “Lou?”

“Haz?” Louis inquired, peeking his eyes open to see Harry sitting on the cold floor of the unidentifiable building, legs tucked under him as he looked at Louis with worry. Louis’s eyes trailed up Harry’s body and then landed on a ridiculously patterned headscarf, and, Lord, how he missed it. How he missed Harry.

“Lou, you need to get up. Louis, I need you to be okay. Get up,” Harry instructed – begged – Louis.

“Love, you’re not real,” Louis murmured as his eyes fell shut again, keeping his voice soft to ease the throbbing pain of his head. “I hit my head. I’m just hallucinating.”

“Hallucinating? Louis does this look like a hallucination?”

“Harry, it looks like I’m in a dusty warehouse with a hole in the–” Louis opened his eyes to see himself sitting on a plush couch, Harry’s arms wrapped protectively around him. Looking around he saw Zayn to his left, and Liam and Niall on the smaller couch opposite of them.

“Lou, you’re with us. You’re safe. You’re home,” Harry muttered reassuringly, nuzzling his face into Louis’s neck. Louis relaxed into Harry’s touch with a happy smile on his face.

It reminded Louis of the night after their last show as a group, in fact it was the spitting image: the same overstuffed corduroy couches, Zayn on his phone with a deflated quiff, Niall with far too much food for one person, Liam teasing him about it as he tried to steal another chip… It was déjà vu, really.

“Harry,” Louis trailed sadly, offering him a look that proved his previous statement right.

“Louis, everything’s going to be okay, I promise. We might not be on the road again, making music, singing songs, but we’re family. Our lifestyle doesn’t define us. You’ll always be at home with us,” Harry replied, verbatim what he said that night.

“Kiss me, you fool,” Louis said with a halfhearted smile, replying like how he did.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Harry answered with a smirk, bending forward slightly to envelop Louis’s lips with his own.

“Oi, lovebirds. Just because you do, in fact, have those lovebirds tattooed onto your chest, Styles, you two can’t have a shag on a couch in front of us,” Niall said loudly, throwing a limp chip and Louis’s face.

“Especially not one I’m sitting on,” Zayn grumbled, scooting as far away from Louis as possible.

“It might be my last time,” Louis whispered sadly, knowing that whatever he said wouldn’t change the course of the memory.

Liam laughed like Louis had told the joke of the century. “Good one, Louis. But seriously, I won’t feel guilty grounding the two of you.”

Louis smiled fondly at the faced he loved with all his heart before he settled down against Harry’s warm chest, curling up and closing his eyes to wait for sleep to bring solace to the headache that had plagued him throughout the memory. Soon enough, it did, and Louis was shrouded by darkness and the warmth of Harry, wishing more than anything that Harry was really there.

“Lou, you need to get up. Boo, I need you to be okay. Stand up and promise you’ll be okay. Promise,” Harry’s voice whispered into Louis’s ear.

“Love, this isn’t real,” Louis muttered back, squeezing his eyes tight against reality. “It’s not real. I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone. It won’t be how it used to be. I’m going to wake up, and I’m going to wish I didn’t. It’s not real.”

“Lou,” Harry said again, but his statement was cut off by the agonizing pain of a kick to his abdomen. All of Louis’s muscles felt stiff and he writhed and moaned in response.

“Wake up!” a man, probably the same man, yelled, his foot coming into contact with Louis’s ribs once more. His voice blended in and out with Harry’s, and Louis let out an awful cry of sadness. He forced his eyes open and looked up to the man. Try as he might, Louis was unable to keep his emotions under control, and he was already losing the fight, even though he had yet to reach the second night.

Louis just wanted Harry with him, really with him.

 

~~~

 

It was amazing, time, how it could flow seamlessly from day to day without any stark contrast of the transition. Louis soon began to lose track of the days as the sun circled around, giving him light then casting him into darkness. It was hard for him to quantify the passage of time, it was like counting lines that blurred together and were undistinguishable from one another.

Louis could feel the toll time was taking on him though. The frequent drizzles chilling him to the bone, the wind biting through his clothes, the emptiness gnawing through him… It was painful – his body ached and his energy was seeped from his being – Louis didn’t know how much longer he would be able to push through it. What hurt the most, thought, was how Louis’s mind was trying to cope with the physical pain, but all it did was add to the emotional pain.

It was so hard for Louis to keep himself from crying out – from succumbing to his captors – when all of a sudden Harry was standing behind him, a warm hand resting lightly on his shoulder. But of course, when Louis turned back, the image of Harry disappeared like smoke. When The Coy were abusing him physically or verbally to break him mentally, Louis could barely hold himself together when he heard Harry telling him to hold on, that Louis would see him soon. Harry was the flicker of hope filling his darkness, and the fuel to the fire burning him alive; Louis didn’t know if Harry would save him or break him, but all he wished was that whichever it was would happen quickly.

“Love, you’ll see me soon,” Harry would start to whisper, his voice low and soothing as always, and Louis would always be torn between screaming until his throat hurt more than his mind did and begging Harry for the soon to come faster.

“I wish you were here with me,” Louis would end up mumbling, each and every time to Harry as he appeared before him, not quite there but not quite gone either. It was a simple pleasure that Louis couldn’t help but indulge himself in. And if people heard what he said, well, that didn’t matter to Louis; it was the same statement over and over again. The Coy couldn’t get much more out of Louis. Or so he thought.

“You know,” the friendly-neighborhood-serial-killer said to Louis after a period of time passed. “When I tied you up in that chair with all those scraps of newspapers on your lap, I thought you would be sobbing about how tragic your life was. I thought you were a sappy, shallow little teenager with a big ego and a lot of money to your name. Who knew you were so stubborn? Turns out hurting you and starving you doesn’t accomplish anything.”

The man let out a sadistic laugh, a happy smirk filling his face when he looked at Louis. He took a few steps closer and crouched down to eye level before pulling his hands behind his back with a piece of paper held in them. Louis was curious as to what was printed on the paper, but deep down he knew it was the last thing he wanted to see.

“See this picture, Louis?” the man asked, holding up the paper to where Louis could see himself and the four other lads – a promotion picture of their last tour. “I know how much they mean to you, and I will spill the blood of every single one of them.”

“Please, I’ll do anything. Anything. Don’t touch them. Please don’t touch them. Please don’t hurt Harry,” Louis let out in a rush, his unused voice barely forming the words. After his moment of blind panic did Louis stop to think. Only after he spoke did Louis realize how much his words were going to hurt people. Hurt Harry.

“Harry,” the man trailed, a grin of pleasure at the thought of pain coming to his face. “All this time you’ve been whispering to Harry? And here I was thinking I’d have to kill your friends and family before I could even get the name of the one you loved. Looks like I get to kill two birds with one stone. Literally.”

“Why the hell are you doing this?” Louis screamed, struggling against the bonds that kept him to the chair.

“Why am I doing this? We like to see people suffer, Louis,” his captor explained, as if he was speaking to a small child. “We like people to realize that we aren’t the monsters of society, but they are. There’s a little bit of evil in all of us, we just help people stop turning a blind eye to that fact. I never hurt Harry. You did.”

“None of this is necessary you fucking sociopath!”

“Of course it’s necessary, Louis.” The man’s voice was still as calm as ever, which Louis found to be quite unnerving. It was almost soothing if the words it formed weren’t so bloody nasty. “But now isn’t the time for explanations. I have work to do.”

The man then stood up, but not before placing the picture of the five carefully on Louis’s lap. He then walked out, leaving Louis to look at his best mates and Harry staring up at him. God, he could have done that forever – been a crazy, flamboyant lad singing songs and wearing colored trousers with striped shirts. If Louis had to pick a period of his life to live endlessly, it would have been on stage as part of One Direction. But now he was tied to a chair, the end of his days creeping closer by the seconds. Louis wanted to die happy, but he felt miserable.

Louis began to struggle against the bonds keeping him held where he was. He worked until his wrists felt raw and he hadn’t the energy to continue. Eventually Louis was so weak that he couldn’t do more than sit in the chair sucking in much needed oxygen. The picture that was placed on his lap had since fluttered off, landing picture side down on the dirty concrete floor. Louis thought he was done for, that no amount of struggling would save him.

That was until the man came back with a tall, lanky figure in tow. Louis started fighting even harder to get free, shouting with all he had, even though it was barely anything. Finally, the man reached him and threw Harry to the ground before pushing over Louis’s chair so his head came into contact with the floor once again.

It was as if the lights went down, everything turning to black. Louis couldn’t see, and everything sounded far off and distant. He cried out for Harry but fell silent as the sensation of pain coursed through his body. Louis heard struggling, but that too fell silent.

“Lou? Louis?” Harry called out, his voice choked out by pain.

“Hush, love. Hush,” Louis murmured. The effort required to speak was too taxing on Louis; he felt the fading sensation that he usually felt before falling asleep.

“Lou?” Harry whispered brokenly. A whimper of pain was followed by silence.  
The feeling in Louis body began to fade, as if the darkness he saw started seeping through his veins. He tried to fight it, to fight as the darkness overcame him, but he couldn’t. Not anymore. Louis had been submerged under the waves of dark, and he dragged Harry down with him. He realized that he wouldn’t be going home, not then, not ever. And for the first time, Louis had a change of heart about Harry, and he wished it more than anything he had before.

_I wish you weren’t here with me_.

 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, lovelies :) I'm really sorry it ended like that! If you want to talk to me check out my [tumblr](http://promiscuouslittlekitten.tumblr.com)


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